An Introduction To An Ending
by Scari
Summary: The man who changed intelligent young minds into calculating genii, the making of L and the results of the pressure on those who are to follow in his footsteps. This is the story of Whammy's, a place where emotional honing is as influential as mental.
1. L and Colours

If you **hone** something, for example a skill, technique, idea, or product, you carefully develop it over a long period of time so that it is exactly right for your purpose.

**Part 1: L**

**L and Colours**

Long black hair that frame's her pretty face, large pleasant eyes that are almost always filled with kindness and love, a slender frame, a soft cream complexion and a sweet demeanour. This is Noelle, young mother and artist extraordinaire.

A small boy tugs at the hem of her ripped jeans, smiling at his mother and blinking his dark eyes lazily from his spot on the floor, having crawled towards the young painter from his toy mat. Noelle coos and lifts the young Lawliet onto the counter top, smiling and ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. He reaches to dip a finger into the paint she's mixing, looking appreciatively at the gooey blue substance and smearing it between his petite fingers.

Noelle talks to her son nonstop, feeling as though the young boy is really listening, his round face turned towards her own paint smudged one. The youngster continues to play with his mother's paint, swirling the colours with curiosity burning in his face.

Lawliet watches happily as his mother arranges her tools, setting out fine paintbrushes and preparing her canvas.

Noelle watches her son playing with the paint, unfolding the legs of her easel, and laughs lightly. "Say, Lawliet, dear, will you help Mum mix the paint?"

Lawliet puts his small thumb between his pale lips and watches his mother, swirling the paint around in its can with the other hand and nods, waiting for Noelle to explain more fully, part of the meaning still being somewhat obscure to the toddler. His mother plucks him off the counter and sets him down on a stool, where he sits with his back against the wall in front of the young girl's work desk. He plucks at the feet of his pyjamas, ignoring the darker blue stains that follow his fingers across the sky blue fabric.

Noelle piles the many sheets of paper that clutter the desk onto the counter and lays out a large mixing tray that holds the three primary colours, still talking to her son and beginning to streak her canvas with colours. Lawliet laughs, a one syllable noise that makes his mother's smile widen, before beginning to smear the paint across the tray as his mother works on her own painting, satisfied that her son will be entertained with the finger paint she'd given him.

The young genius experiments with the shining reds, yellows, and blues; making an array of different secondary colours and moving on from there, one thumb still poised between his lips. Lawliet then begins to scrawl out shapes on the tray, mouthing the words for what he is drawing.

"Square. Puppy. Mummy." His pronunciation is slurred by a young and inexperienced tongue, though the attempt is gallant for someone so young, and his paintings are certainly lack lustre, but he is very proud of them, as most children are when they create something on their own. "See I done, Mum?" He holds up his colourful hands and beckons Noelle, who is stuck in deep concentration, mumbling to herself now while she paints and becoming feverishly absorbed in her hobby.

Lawliet watches his mother, his attention no longer being held by the array of paint on his tray. Noelle's slim hands drop a dark paint brush onto a paper towel sitting on the counter and she brushes her hair into a ponytail before moving over to her waiting son.

"Let's see what you've got." Noelle smiles; picking up the tray with her thumb and forefinger so as to avoid the paint coating its plastic surface, an action she often repeats when painting. Round black eyes watch curiously, anticipating Noelle's critique. The young woman nods and hums, still smiling at her son with shining eyes. "I love the many different colours you've used Mr. Lawliet. Yes indeed... they create a glorious affect. And I like this square right here..." She points to a somewhat lopsided interpretation of a square, looking impressed. "It completes the picture beautifully. The contrast between orange and purple in this corner balances it all nicely as well... all in all; I think you have a masterful piece of work here!"

Lawliet giggles and claps before pulling the tray out of his mother's hands and pointing to it happily. "Glorious!" he chimes, (a word that sounds more like "Gworous") before pointing to the wiggly square. "Madderpol!" His small hands move to the mess of colours in the corner and he repeats what his mother had said, "Bawance!" The young L then climbs onto the table and into his mother's arms, content with her rave review, although, admittedly, he hadn't quite understood everything his mother had said; her voice was enough to convince him that she was happy. As L tucks his small chin into his mother's soft hair, the faint creek of a door reverberates through the basement, signalling the arrival of Noelle's boyfriend and Lawliet's father, Dale.

Noelle hugs her son before opening the door that leads to a set of concrete stairs and bringing Lawliet with her, listening to him repeat what she had said about his painting, obviously very pleased.

"How about you go play with Daddy for a while, Lawliet?" Noelle asks the small boy in her arms, untangling his fingers from her ebony hair and nodding at him. As much as she would love to talk more with her son, she knows that the boy's father wouldn't be home very much in the next week and would want to spend as much time with his son as he could before he left.

The young man's face splits when he sees Lawliet and Noelle emerge from the basement and he promptly takes the child out of Noelle's arms, beaming at his son. Dale is a tall man with hair almost as dark as Noelle's, much paler skin and a wide smile. He works as a legal consultant, trying to make a decent living for his family. The chocolate brown coat he wears is ragged and old and his hair is messy, poking out at odd ends, but, despite his appearance, he is a very intellectual man with a good reputation as a newly graduated tax lawyer.

Lawliet proceeds to decorate Dale's plain coat with many colourful finger prints as he wraps his small arms around his father's neck, still repeating some of his mother's words.

"Madderpol! Bawance!" His small voice is so filled with pride and joy that Dale's grin widens, even though he is unsure about what his son could possibly be talking about.

Noelle, her dark hair glistening in the well light living room, pecks Dale on the cheek before telling him animatedly about Lawliet's painting escapades while the boy joins in happily with mentions of contrast and other words his mother had used in describing his picture.

Dale hums and raises his eyebrows at his son when Noelle turns and opens the white washed door that leads into the basement before heading down the stairs and closing it behind her. Lawliet hums back at his father, interlacing his fingers with Dale's dark hair as the young man begins to walk into the kitchen.

"How about a snack?" He asks in a soft voice, setting Lawliet into a chair at the kitchen table, his black, feathery hair the only thing visible over its dark wooden surface. Dale opens the mini fridge and pulls out a box of ruby red strawberries, smiling at his son's exclamation of "Oh, bewies!" as he cuts them into pieces, the reflection of his dark eyes flashing in the gleam of the small knife.

Lawliet holds the pieces of the strawberries in his small fingers, popping them into his mouth sporadically as his father talks to him about his business trip to Bath.

The young L's mind is currently focused on nothing but the soothing rhythm of his father's words and the fresh taste of strawberry that he would always favour, his large dark eyes trying to peek at Dale over the tabletop.

When he has eaten every piece of strawberry that his small fingers can find on the smooth wood surface of the table, they turn to another activity: plucking at the feet of his footie pyjamas, where the dark blue paint he had smeared on them before has dried into a crust, clinging to the strands of fabric that make up the outfits exterior. Small flakes of the dried paint fall to the tiled kitchen floor, pooling around the future detective's chair.

When Noelle comes up from the basement minutes later with her painting smock removed and her hands washed, she has changed into a simple black dress and twisted her dark hair into a knot behind her head. Dale pulls her out a chair next to Lawliet while the young boy reaches his arms out to his mother. The two parents exchange numerous warm words and Noelle strokes her son's thin hair while he threads his fingers into her own black locks, listening to the conversation between the two most substantial people in his life.

A chiming melody rings through the small house and Dale moves away from the counter, where he had been leaning casually, and makes his way towards the front entrance.

When Dale returns, a high but soft voice joins that of Lawliet's mother's cooing one and the young boy turns to see a teenager with colourful braces and frizzy red hair walking in next to his father, smiling at him and greeting his mother politely. This girl had watched Lawliet many times when his parents had gone out, and he recognizes her as "Babby" though the girl's name is really Gabby, she accepts L's version with a smile and a giggle. She is the daughter of the people who live next door, a kind couple with three children and two dogs who often visit for dinner. Gabby is clumsy and often forgetful, but L enjoys spending time with her and his parents trust her immensely.

Noelle hands Lawliet over to Gabby, who greets him enthusiastically, and gives her a piece of sunshine yellow paper with a scribbled phone number. "This is the restaurant's number, and my cell is on the fridge as always. He hasn't had dinner yet, but it's already prepared in the fridge."

Gabby nods and tries to stop Lawliet from weaving his fingers into her hair, something he does often when being picked up. She smiles at him and moves him onto her other arm, shifting her body weight.

"Okay, well, if there is anything you need, Gabby, don't hesitate to call me." Noelle leans in and kisses her son on the forehead, ruffles the light feathering of hair on his head and lets Dale link his arm with hers. The two proceed to the door, on their way to a restaurant that they visit every time Dale comes home from a business trip, and this time is no different. It is routine for them, and they don't need to remind each other about the outing, it is a fixed part of their lifestyle.

Gabby follows them to the doorway, Lawliet still sitting in her freckled arms, and listens with a kind smile as Noelle reviews all the instructions that Gabby had heard numerous times. She is, of course, an experienced baby sitter. Dale leads Noelle out the door, the women he plans to marry. In fact, he plans to propose this evening at the restaurant. He has already spoken with the staff, which the couple has become quite close to as the place is a favourite of theirs, and finally managed to buy the ring he has wanted for so long. He waves to his son, his smile wider than ever, happy to be a family and imagining the pride that would come with calling Noelle his wife.

And Lawliet smiles back at him and coos "Bye, bye, dada."


	2. L and Acker

If you **hone** something, for example a skill, technique, idea, or product, you carefully develop it over a long period of time so that it is exactly right for your purpose.

**Part 1: L**

**L and Acker**

Detective Acker thinks himself to be quite empathetic, a high point in society. His suit is crisp and ironed, his pants creased to perfection, his cinnamon hair combed and neat, his shoes polished. Presently, those shoes are shining under the porch light of a small one storey house, the multicoloured brick walls cast in and out of shadow as the bulb flickers on and off, spluttering with electricity.

He raises a large hand; his fingers curled in a fist, to the brown door with the _28 _posted in faux gold lettering, shaking his well groomed head solemnly. He hesitates before knocking softly, dreading the moment when the door will swing open.

All the empathy in the world wouldn't be enough lessen the blow of what he's about to say.

A frizzy redhead peers through the peek hole on the other side of the door when she hears the slow, monotonous knocking, hoping the sound won't awaken her charge, Lawliet. Her wide cyan eyes are met with the gold of a police badge, bulging in the middle due to the disfigured glass.

A thousand thoughts fight to the surface in her head, and a million emotions well in the pit of her stomach, and she can't settle on which to choose. She reaches out a pale hand and twists the brass door knob, pushing the door open with a faint creak of hinges.

Detective Acker looks down on Gabby, his face strained. "May I come in?" He asks her, his voice steady and clear. He knows he has to be calm and professional.

Gabby nods her freckled head and stands off to the side, allowing Acker entrance to the small house. He steps onto the small beige mat that sits on the living room floor, bearing the word _Welcome _in spiralling letters.

The detective tucks his badge back in his pocket and asks Gabby to take a seat at the round wooden dining table in the kitchen, pulling out a chair for himself. Gabby's mouth hangs slightly ajar, her eyes travelling over the broad shouldered police officer sitting across from her, worry gripping her heart as he begins to talk.

"I would like to ask you a few questions Mrs..." His gruff voice trails off, eyes fixed on Gabby's face, waiting for a name.

"It's Gabby." The babysitter tells him softly, feeling lost and wishing the officer would tell her why he had come instead of leaving her wondering, letting her imagination run wild.

"Gabby, I am Detective Acker." He drums his fingers soundlessly on the table top, "What relation do you have to a Noelle and Dale?" A grey moth flutters aimlessly around the yellow light above him, trying to reach the bulb inside the smooth decorated glass that surrounds and dims it.

"I'm their neighbour. I'm babysitting." For an unexplainable reason Gabby can't bring herself to say much more. She can sense the sadness about Detective Acker and a sense of foreboding blocks her words. She knows Noelle and Dale should have been home ages ago. She tells herself that they stayed out later to celebrate their engagement. She doesn't believe herself. "Were they in an accident of some kind?" She asks, wide eyed.

Detective Acker sighs and mentally prepares for him for what comes next, because he already knows what will happen. He stalls. "How long have you known them, Gabby?"

The moth flaps to the other side of the light, trying its luck there instead.

"They moved here about 6 months ago." Gabby doesn't blink. She is trying to read Detective Acker's face, trying to extract the information she wants from there.

"Okay, thank you Gabby. I want you to please take the child or children you are babysitting to your house. I would like a word with your parents." The Detective rises from his chair, its legs scrapping against the linoleum floor and Gabby rises with him, more slowly and fighting back tears.

Gabby knows something is terribly wrong. When she reaches the basement bedroom where the whole family sleeps, she scoops Lawliet out of his crib, hugging his small form close to her body and whispering to him as though he's the one who needs comforting.

The atmosphere crushes the young girl, walking across the street to her house, a large detective by her side and a small sleeping child wrapped in her arms. She can feel disaster floating in the air, breathing it in to her fragile, sensitive heart.

The detective feels the crush of the young girl's emotions as well, satisfied with his decision to take her back to the comfort of her own home and whatever family is waiting for her there, as well as to bring the young boy sleeping in her arms to a place where he will be taken care of until his fate is decided.

His fate and the world's fate, but Acker doesn't know that.

A frazzled looking woman answers the door on Acker's first knock, a small boy clinging to her leg and screaming excitedly, one small fist waving.

"Hi, hi, hi!" He calls to the three sombre people standing on the door step, his eyes a wild blue and his golden hair flopping carelessly over his round face. The woman pushes him away and down the hall behind her and his voice, quite a large one for such a small child, calls out "Sister's home!"

The woman is Gabby's mother, but she is more commonly called Penny. Her face is round and childish; her hair wild like her daughter's and her eyes a sparkling azure. She is kind and motherly to everyone she meets, but easily overwhelmed. Her voice never rises over much more than a comforting murmur, but, for some reason unknown, her two sons, Gabby's younger brothers, are the loudest on the street.

Penny notices instantly the grave look on the detective's face but, as it always is with mothers, she is most focused on the confused face and tear filled eyes of her daughter.

Acker pulls out his badge to show Penny, but she has already stepped aside and gestured for them to enter, her expression no longer frazzled but sad.

If anyone among the gradually growing group is empathetic, it is not Acker, but Penny. She silences her sons with a few soft words and sends them upstairs to play with their toy trains, knowing, as if by intuition, what to do in the situation.

Lawliet weaves his fingers into Gabby's hair, having just woken up, and his small eyes travel over the somewhat familiar environment of Gabby's house. The young L has come to recognize this house as a place for playing, but he can see clearly that there is no playing going on. In fact, L can tell that the current situation must be one of great sadness and he begins to cry, his voice spluttering and his fingers pulling and twisting at Gabby's bright hair.

The girl, quite kindly, does not remove his small fingers, and she begins to coo to him, trying to make him calm and to reassure him, feeling the same way as the toddler, perplexed and ill-fated.

"Would you take Lawliet upstairs dear?" Penny folds her arms in front of her stomach and rocks back on her heels, nodding at Gabby.

When the redhead leaves the room, Detective Acker turns to Penny and he asks her to sit, pointing at a deep brown couch in the living room, a small space with warm yellow walls and numerous rugs and knickknacks on small tables. He then goes over the same questions he had asked Gabby and several others, gathering information from the mother. What is your name? How long have you known Noelle and Dale?

"Where were they tonight, Mrs Kyles?" Acker has now pulled out a pad of paper and Gabby has slunk back into room, having left Lawliet in her youngest brother's crib, which, despite the fact that he is turning eight soon, he refuses to abandon.

"They went for dinner at the restaurant just down the road. They go there quite often. It's a favourite of theirs, that restaurant." Penny smiles warmly at her daughter and throws an arm around her shoulder, trying to stay positive about the detective's arrival.

Acker nods and writes it down on his paper. "I'm sure you know that they did not arrive back at the house where your daughter..." Acker glances at Gabby, a lone tear trickling down her cheek, "was babysitting. We received word about a young couple walking alone down an alley, possibly drunk, and went to pick them up." Acker pauses and breaths deeply, watching as Penny clings desperately to everything he says and interruptes every few words with a soft "They are okay, though?"

"We found a cell phone with a piece of black fabric tied around it and searched around to find out who owned the phone and where they lived. I am sorry to inform you that the urgency we placed on this situation was due to a fair amount of blood found around the scene and on the main street."

A strangled cry comes from Penny and Gabby hides her face in her hands, sagging into her mother with a sob. Penny wraps her short arms around her daughter, tears blurring her vision of the two young boys spying over the railing, obviously hoping to hear an exciting secret, with shocked expressions. Penny beckons them, not wanting them to try to deal with the information on their own.

"There is still a chance that they are alive and we are doing our best to try and find them. I will phone if we get any leads." The Detective informs the family, trying to lessen the blow of the news. He stands, intending to give them privacy and leave the home, his shining shoes brushing against the brown carpeting and his perfectly ironed suit swishing as he plunges his hands in his pockets. When he reaches the hallway outside of the living room he nods at Penny and leaves them more words that have little to no affect on their emotional state.

He opens the door and slips outside, taking a deep breath and sucking in the night air, ready for a sleepless night of trying to find the young couple. He walks briskly towards his car, wanting to join the other detectives in searching as soon as possible. He climbs into the driver's side and straightens out his suit, twisting the key in the ignition and waiting for the slow purr of his silver car when it starts.

He pulls away from the curb and slides down the street, headlights piercing the cloak of darkness and engine humming quietly. He searches the night with his deep brown eyes as though hoping the people he's looking for will jump out of the shadows. The descriptions run through his head. _Black hair, dark eyes, tall, slight, long hair, messy hair. _The two people meld into one in his head, his thoughts whirring.

A sudden ringing meets his ears and he snatches at his phone- the one he uses for work.

"Detective Acker, we've found the bodies of that young couple. We're bringing them in for autopsy now and collecting evidence at the scene. Have you already talked with the family?" The voice on the other end of the call is that of Dan, a close friend of Acker's and a direct subordinate.

Acker pulls into a dark, empty parking lot and waits silently, phone pressed to his ear. When all that answers his silence is an equal measure of silence, he answers. "I talked to the neighbours. I've already left the house." Acker sighs deeply, remembering the child in Gabby's arms with the large black eyes and the pale skin while Dan tells him he will deal with the rest of the news breaking business; that Acker can simply focus on solving the crime. It is obvious that Dan believes that there was no family to deal with.

"Dan? They have a son."


End file.
